


Magic and Mishaps

by orphan_account



Category: Easy Allies RPF
Genre: Death, Mentions of Blood, Modern magic AU, Multi, Vampires, unexplained phenomena
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8435527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ian has spent all her life trying to be the perfect witch. And find roommates that she actually likes. Who knew that the two of those would come hand in hand?





	

“I can’t believe I ran out of chive roots.” Ian grumbles, waving her hands in front of the supermarket doors. They don’t move and Ian mumbles a few threats under her breath, waving her arm much more violently than before. They slide open and she slips inside, into the harsh fluorescent lights and white tile flooring and the atmosphere that one can only find in nearly empty grocery stores with shelves too tall for anyone to reach. 

“Welcome!” One of the workers calls from behind one of the registers. “Do you need any help with anything?”

“I’m good, thank you!” Ian calls back, waving. “I think I know my way around.” She smiles and turns on her heel, ducking down the frozen foods aisle, something she believes to be of another universe. It can be a balmy seventy-two degrees in the rest of the store, and negative eighteen and a half in the frozen goods section. It’s a complicated theory, really, hinging on the overlay of dimensions and the perception of worldly and otherworldly populations. 

An older woman, spirit nearly in tatters, faded and pale, tips her hat as Ian walks by the frozen peas, floating further up the aisle. Ian smiles to herself as she re-enters the supermarket realm of real people, not ice yetis that live in some dystopian form of Alaska. She takes a right, walking until she reaches the very corner of the store, and pushes through the unmarked door that stands there.

“Shit, ma- Duck!” Somebody yells and Ian drops to the floor as something embeds itself into the door above her head. She stands, brushing herself off, looking skeptically at the tiny axe in the wood of the door. “Sorry, Ian.” Elyse says from behind the counter, trying desperately to catch a small thing running around on the counter. “I’ll be with you in one second, just let me catch this damn thing!” She slams her hands down onto the countertop. “Okay, okay, shit, hand me that box.” She nods at it, unable to move her hands. He slides it over to her and she quickly throws whatever was running around into the box and slams it shut. She puts it under the counter and straightens up, shaking her hair back. “Thanks a bunch for that well-timed box placement.”

“Anything for you, dear heart.” Ian puts her elbows on the counter, propping up her chin. “What’s the problem this time?” Elyse rolls her eyes, but mirrors her stance.

“Enchanted clockwork centaur. With weapons.” Elyse shakes her head and sighs, annoyed. “Animation spell gone awry, it seems. It was in the eighteen month plus backlog and the guy who turned it in apparently hasn’t called in about it, so.” Elyse shrugs. “My best bet is he either forgot or he’s dead, probably by one of his miscast spells. Good chances, I’d bet on it.”

“Elyse, the centaur’s been in a box for over a year? No matter it’s so mad, it probably just wants a friend.” Ian points out and Elyse narrows her eyes.

“Do you want to be its friend? Because you can be its friend. Here, let me grab it for you.” Elyse ducks below the counter and Ian lunges, barely grabbing her arm and pulling her back up.

“I’m allergic to horse hair. You know this, Elyse. Gosh, and I thought you were a friend.” Ian shakes her head, putting a hand over her heart in a borderline mock offense. She cannot believe Elyse’s audacity, forgetting something as important as this. Horses could legitimately kill Ian and leave her corpse in some muddy, straw-filled field somewhere where no one would find her for three days at the very least. 

“Ian.” Elyse says, voice flat and dry. She looks entirely too fed up with her. “It is made of  _ ceramic _ . It has no  _ hair _ .” She covers her eyes with her hands, pressing against her brow. “Fuck this, what do you need?”

“Chive root.” Ian chuckles, running a hand through her hair and letting it fall over her ears. “I thought I had more, but, y’know. Never-ending cabinets aren’t the best for storing stuff you need to find.” Elyse snorts. “Especially when you’ve got home improvement things that need to be happening real quick-like.” Elyse raises an eyebrow as she pulls out a leather bound ledger and cracks it open, scanning across the spindly scrawled words. 

“You get tired of having a black kitchen?” Elyse asks, smile playing on her lips. Ian groans.

“Look… I realize now that it was a bad idea. Because black traps heat. And there’s an oven in the kitchen. That gets hot. And the heat can’t leave. So it just. Hots.” She groans again, hanging her head. “You were right. There, I said it. Having a black kitchen was a bad idea. Such a bad idea. One of the worst.”

“Thank you.” Elyse chirps, pausing her tracing of the page and tapping it a few times. “Going with a less edgelord colour this time?” She taps the edge of the counter with her nails. Ian nods. “One second. Chive root!” She shouts and something shuffles a few shelves over, a noise like something crashing and Elyse winces, but gestures for Ian to go on.

“Yellow. Brighten the place up a little. Go just a tiny bit less deathlord of the underworld and residing spirits.” Ian smirks. Sure, her kitchen might be yellow, but she’ll be damned if her countertops aren’t black. Okay, they might be stained black from a few spell mishaps and soot that can’t be scrubbed off, but still. They’re black.

“I don’t know if you’re going to get your down payment back now, hon. You still looking for a roommate, though?” Elyse checks and Ian nods, she’s always looking for a roommate. That might change when she actually gets a roommate, but for now, yes. She’s in need of some good old acceptance and acceptable roommates. “What’s your checklist?” Ian looks at her, blankly. “Your list of requirements.”

“Oh! Uh, nice? And not a transphobe because that would be utterly unfortunate. I might punch them. On purpose.” She starts counting off on her fingers. “Can actually help with rent. Lets me do the magic thing, isn’t upset by ghosts. Okay with the gay. Cute is a plus, but y’know.” Ian shrugs. Elyse taps her chin.

“I might have somebody. I’ll send him over to move in soon, yeah?” She asks and Ian raises an eyebrow, skeptically. “What? He’s one of my friends, you think I’d hang out with unsavoury people? He’s nice and queer and he’s been crashing on my couch for a month and a half because he can’t go back to his old apartment, alright? And if you don’t like him, send him back.”

“He better be cute.” Ian grumbles under her breath and Elyse grins.

“Oh, you bet your boots, hon. Are you doubting my friend’s cuteness caliber?” She asks, pressing her eyebrows together. “Let me remind you that you are one of my friends. Keep that in mind as you answer.”

“No, no, I’m sure he’s adorable.” Ian reassures her, waving a hand. “I’m just teasing, don’t worry about it. Tell him to come on over, yeah? I’ll let him in and if it doesn’t work, well. I know how comfortable your couch is.” Elyse reaches over the counter and pushes him, lightly. 

“You’re the absolute worst.” She laughs. A grey cat leaps up onto the counter, scrabbling slightly and hauling herself up. She huffs, drops a small bag from her mouth onto the counter, and flops down. “Thanks, Wick.” Elyse scratches her head lightly and Wick purrs.

“Yeah, thanks, Wick.” Ian repeats, reaching out to pet her. She looks at him with an odd look of contempt he didn’t know cats could muster, like she’s looking down her nose on someone who just insulted her shoes, and Ian pulls back her hand, taking the back instead. “How much?”

“Ten.” Elyse answers and Ian counts out the bills from her wallet, pressing them into Elyse’s hands.

“Thanks again.” She says and Wick sneezes in response. Ian blinks at her, then shakes her head. “Maybe if I come in more, she’ll learn to love me.”

“She can probably smell the ghosts, if I’m being honest.” Elyse shrugs, gathering her cat into her arms. “I’ll send my dude over soon, yeah? Like in a week or two.”

“Sure, sure. See you later, then? And good luck with that centaur!” Ian says over her shoulder, pushing open the door. 

“Fuck you!” Elyse calls after her, but it gets cut off halfway when Ian slams the door. She walks away, bag in hand, turning around slightly to see what she knows is about to happen.

The wall melts over the wood of the door, covering it, sealing it until the space looks identical to any other section of the wall. Hidden. Ian shivers, leftover magic tangible in the air, Elyse has always been better at it than her. She’s wicked good at spells. 

Ian does manage to get her kitchen changed to a bright egg yolk yellow. The spell might also have turned her curtains red in a side effect she didn’t know existed and doesn’t know how it happened. She also doesn’t really care, it looks good, and she lost her charmed  in that damned never-ending cabinet so she couldn’t really fix it even if she wanted to. Damn those cabinets. Damn them all to hell. Hell is probably contained inside of them for all she knows and turning them inside out would more than likely create a blackhole in her kitchen. Well, shit. She can’t have a black hole, she literally just got rid of the black walls. 

She avoids her kitchen for the next few days, she’s reasonably sure those cabinets can read her thoughts. They are magical, after all, and kind of fucking horrifying. But she gets fed up a week later and tries to clean them out.

There’s a pile of miscellaneous items on the kitchen table behind her -she’s not even sure if it is all hers, when did she own a staff? When did she own a copy of Holes? Why is that even in a magic cabinet?- and she’s elbow deep in the cabinet’s inky blackness when there’s a knock on the door. 

She groans, pulling her arms back out and brushing them on her shirt even though there’s nothing on them. She picks her way out of the kitchen and to the door, pulling it open.

There’s a guy standing there. Tall. Nice hair that is actually Ian’s hair, is her liking it a weird kind of reciprocal compliment? She isn’t sure, but this guy with the leather jacket and a duffle bag slung over one shoulder is legitimately good looking and Ian is kind of peeved.

“Hi, I’m looking for, uh, Ian?” He says, reading something off the back of his hand before looking up. “That’s you, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Ian nods, looking him over once more. “Did Elyse send you?”

“That sounds… Honestly kind of creepily cultish, but yeah, she did. I’m Brad.” He sticks out his hand and Ian shakes it. “She told me that I’d like you? And you’d let me be your roommate, but honestly I think she just doesn’t want me in her apartment anymore.” Brad shrugs, laughing. Damn, he’s cute.

“Eh, don’t worry about her, she’d put anyone up, really. But yeah, you can live here if you’re not like a horrible person or anything.” Ian opens the door wider and steps back, letting Brad enter. She shuts the door behind him and makes a mental note to update that opening spell on the door. 

“I’m not, I promise.” Brad smiles at her, nodding. “Elyse said that you were a… Witch?”

“Eh, kind of.” Ian moves her hands up and down, miming a scale. A scale of what, she isn’t sure, but it’s definitely a scale. “I’m not as great at it as she is, but I make do. Oh, and ghosts.” Brad looks confused. “I mean, I’m not a ghost, but I’m kind of a medium. Sort of. They’re kind of drawn to me and I can see them.”

“Can’t all non-humans see ghosts?” Brad asks, shifting the weight of his bag. “Because I can and I am definitely not skilled in the magic.”

“Oh, yeah, of course, they’re just brighter for me. And the older, fading ones I can see a lot more clearly. They think I’m chill, follow me around sometimes.” Ian says, briefly flicking through the list of non-humans in her head because what is Brad if he’s not a wizard? “They don’t normally come in the apartment though, if that freaks you out. They kind of respect what I ask of them.” Brad nods and Ian narrows her eyes. “So, like, sorry for overstepping if I am, but what are you exactly? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I’d rather now before you turn into a wolf or something.” Brad laughs, grinning.

“No, no, it’s okay! And I’m not a werewolf, don’t worry about that. Nah, I’m a vampire.” He grins again and Ian notices the sharper canines in his smile, protruding slightly. Honestly, she isn’t sure how she missed them before. “Fun times, y’know? Being an actual Dracula.” He makes a motion like he’s hiding behind a cape, but he has no cape and almost drops his bag.

“That’s like chill as hell.” Ian admits and Brad smiles, nodding. “Are you going to need anything here, though? Like… I don’t know, blood? I literally have no idea, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s good, don’t be.” He waves her off. “I don’t go around just casually sucking on people’s necks.” There’s a second of silence and then Brad smacks a hand to his face, groaning loudly. “Shit, that’s not- That’s. Shit. That’s really incredibly wrong. That is so wrong, I have never said something more wrong. I meant that I don’t go around nipping people from behind.” Ian snickers. “Okay, one more time. I meant that I don’t bite humans in back alleys or anything, I don’t bite people period. There are blood distribution centers, y’know, so we don’t actually assault people.”

“Glad you got your words together.” Ian chuckles, running a hand through her hair. The very same hair as Brad’s. Damn him and his fantastic sense of style. “So, I’m guessing the sun thing isn’t a problem? Because you did come here at like, noon.”

“It’s not that bad.” Brad admits, unhooking a pair of sunglasses off his shirt and waving them around. For emphasis, Ian imagines, even though this situation would look ridiculous out of context. “My eyes are sensitive, so I can get by with just these and a bit of sun block during the day. I got the long end of the stick here, my aunt can’t even leave the house. She tried once when she was younger, just stuck her arm outside for a couple of seconds, and she got burned super badly. I’m a lucky one.” Ian nods, sort of strangely grateful she doesn’t have to go through any sun allergy type shit, that her biology is close enough to human. 

“Well, that’s good, yeah? Uh. Well. Anyway. There’s a bit of a mess. I got irrationally angry at my never-ending cabinets who forget that I created them, I can burn them the fuck down if I need to!” Ian yells towards the kitchen, threatening two immobile objects out loud so she knows they can hear her. “Fucks. Lose all of my stuff. Get their own stuff. I think they go on shopping trips together.”

“Can I take a look at them?” Brad asks, finally letting his bag fall down against the floor with a thump. He pushes it against the wall with his foot. “I’m not even remotely skilled at magic, but what would it hurt?”

“If you want, dude, but I think they might be beyond repair. Or saving. I don’t know if they’re broken or dying.” Ian shrugs, leading Brad into the kitchen and pointing to the two seemingly normal cabinets. “Those fucks.” Brad glances around.

“Very yellow.” He compliments and she shrugs.

“Better than what it used to be.” She says and Brad carefully steps over a bushel basket of golf balls that Ian can’t remember putting in the cabinets. “These two are strange, I’m reasonably sure they hate me. I’m also pretty sure that they keep replacing my good cereal with oat bran. I’m not even kidding, my receipts say Frosted Flakes, but my breakfast says that I’m going through a midlife crisis and am about to switch to eating oatmeal.” Brad chuckles, reaching up to the cabinets. He pulls them both open at once and a silent roar fills the apartment, pure white noise blanketing everything like heavy snowfall. There’s something daunting about it, like the world is zooming in, focusing on that blackness contained just behind the thin wooden doors. Brad closes the cabinets.

“Well.” He says, stepping back and brushing off his shirt, even though there’s nothing on it. “That was a good chat.” It’s unclear whether Brad is addressing Ian or the cabinets. “Such a good chat. Real enlightening, pals.” He turns around to Ian, grabs her arm, and pulls her out of the room. He stops just next to the apartment door and whispers “I have no idea what you did to those cabinets and I don’t know if I want to know.” He glances over his shoulder at the two, sitting innocently on their mounts. “I think you created another world. A sentient world. Are they going to, like, kill us or anything?”

“Nah.” Ian shakes her head. “I think they’re okay. Maybe they like me a little bit, yeah? Because I made them? Maybe they just like messing with me. Losing my things. I don’t think they pose a threat.”

“Wait.” Brad says, suddenly, grabbing her by her shoulders and leaning in. “What if. What if we put cabinets inside the cabinets?”

“I think you might just be a genius.” Ian admits.

Ian has to take it back later, after they get back to the apartment with cheap, thrift store cabinets, when the blackness of the cabinets becomes weirdly solid and they have to take the cabinets back to the thrift store. It was a good idea, though, and maybe it sparked some kind of mercy in the cabinets because the next day, she blindly grabs out her Frosted Flakes. Maybe it was a coincidence, but maybe they gave them back.

Brad does turn out to be a model roommate, after the initial shock of the cabinet cohorts has passed. He keeps his blood packs on his side of the fridge and even the cabinets take a liking to him, giving him the ground coffee on the second try (The first usually leaves him with a book of some sort. It confuses him.) instead of the third like they do with Ian. Sure, maybe there was that one incident where he spilled blood on the wall and the kitchen curtains moved of their own accord and seemed to drink it up, but Ian can’t really blame that on Brad, can she? She’s careful to keep the curtains away from her when she’s dicing after that, just in case it wasn’t a coincidence and she nicks herself with the knife and, well… She really doesn’t need any curtains to be drinking her blood anytime soon.

Brad is a special kind of great, though. He has one of the best movie lists she’s ever seen. An actual list, printed out in twelve point Times New Roman font in a white one inch binder. They work through it slowly and Ian realizes about a month after Brad moves in, realizes halfway through a movie about two tragically poetic birds, realizes that shit. She might have a crush on Brad. 

Joke’s on somebody else though because she’ll be damned if she’ll do anything remotely close to talking about her feelings. She keeps an eye on the cabinets, though, because she’s pretty sure they know and she doesn’t want them to spill anything crucial to Brad. She’d cut them up and light them on fire. If they can even be set on fire. She isn’t sure. She threatens them anyway. 

Ian doesn’t have a crush on Brad, no, not at all, never in a million years. Yeah, she likes being around him and likes watching the movies and he laughs at all her jokes and he’s just so nice and not a despicable person and… Okay, maybe she has a bit of a crush. But she is never going to act on it. That’s just off the table and lost in the depths of those cabinets somewhere at the very, very bottom.

So, she keeps it under wraps for about three months, screaming into her pillow at night, trying to get the front door to stop smacking Brad in the face, and cautiously avoiding those curtains. She thinks they growled at her one morning, but she can’t be sure.

It’s late, Brad’s out somewhere, Ian is poring over a spell book, leather bound and written in red ink, searching for something, anything pertaining to those cabinets. She shoots a glance through the kitchen doorway, making sure they aren’t watching her. 

There’s a shuffle outside the door, the clinking of keys, and Ian looks towards it just as it swings open. There’s a muffled yelp from the other side and Brad steps around it, clutching his nose. He groans, shifts his arm and holds… Something closer to his ribs. Ian blinks.

“Brad.” She says, closing the book with a puff of dust and standing. “Brad. Brad. Brad buddy old pal, is that a dog?” He looks down at the furry form in his arms that looks way too big to be carrying.

“No.” He answers, simply, looking back up at her. “It’s a wolf.” The wolf yips happily and it’s tongue lolls out of its mouth. “A good wolf boy. Such a good boy.”

“Uh. Okay.” Ian tucks her book under her arm. “What are you… Going to do with it?” Brad shrugs. The wolf twists in his arms and falls to the ground, standing instantly and bolting towards Ian. Ian jumps backward, book raised to come down, but the wolf pushes past her and leaps onto the sofa, circling a few times before curling up tightly, eyes peeking out from behind its tail. 

“He kind of does his own thing.” Brad shrugs. “He was just kind of walking around and being really sweet, but he was going to get shot. Because, y’know, of the whole wolf thing.”

“Is he an actual wolf or like… Not?” Ian asks and Brad shrugs again.

“Not a clue. It is the full moon, but the moon does make wolves more sociable, I think, so. We’ll know in the morning.” Brad explains, looking at the wolf on the sofa and smiling. 

“Okay. Yeah. Well. Do what you want, I guess? I’m gonna go to bed. Have a nice night, Brad. You too, wolf.” Ian waves and the wolf yawns. She ducks into her bedroom, book tucked close to her chest. She sighs, back pressed against the door. How the hell did Brad even carry that wolf? It was large and… Thinking about it now, Ian realizes that Brad probably has that vampire super strength even if he looks like a limp piece of spaghetti. 

Ian drags herself out of bed the next morning, groggy, and makes her way to the kitchen, running a hand through her already messy hair. She pauses in the doorway, there’s another guy sitting at the kitchen table next to Brad. Wearing Brad’s clothes. Her mind immediately jumps to a one night stand, but she then realizes that that is kind of ridiculous and irrational and what would she even care, anyway?

“Hi.” Ian yawns, moving over to the counter and pouring herself a mug of coffee. 

“Hey, Ian.” Brad greets her. “This is Michael Huber.” He points at the other guy.

“But most people just call me Huber.” He smiles, tilting his head. “I’m the, uh, the wolf guy. From last night, I’ve been told. Sorry about that.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Ian reassures him. “Don’t worry about it, man. Freaked me out, but it’s not every day your roommate brings home a wolf and gets hit in the face with a door. Well, the latter is more frequent.” Brad huffs and Huber chuckles. 

“I don’t know, he seems like a good person.” Huber says and Brad covers his face with his hands. “Sorry if I caused any trouble.”

“None at all.” Brad reassures him, reaching across the table to put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, you’re a good guy. Wolf. Good wolf guy.” He sits back in his chair. “Huber likes your walls.”

“Really?” Ian brightens up and Huber nods. “It took me a bit to get it right, couldn’t find the ingredients and then there was a bit of… Trouble.”

“It looks good.” Huber compliments, looking around. “It’s jolly, got a good flow going on. Why not yellow curtains, though? Or grey? To kind of go with your counters.” Ian and Brad exchange a glance.

“We don’t, uh, we try not to talk about the curtains.” Ian admits, looking over at the. They move slightly, waving in the breeze coming through the open window. “They’re fine.”

“Instead of talking about the curtains,” Brad says, brightly, not so casually steering the conversation in a different direction, “let’s talk about those cabinets. Huber, did you know that Ian managed to create a sentient portal to… somewhere else?” Huber looks mildly afraid, staring at the cabinets, then at Ian.

“Pardon?” He manages and Ian nods, affirming it. “Isn’t that kind of dangerous? Or at least not smart? Shouldn’t you be dying? Or something?” Ian shrugs.

“I don’t know, man. We’re kind of as clueless as you are about the whole thing.” She explains. The cabinets creak in response and she waves her hands at them. “Yeah, yeah, chill, we get it.” She shakes her head at Huber, who clears his throat and looks down at his coffee.

“Is this mug going to like, jump me or something? Should I be worried?” He looks back up at them, smirking. Brad blinks and leans across the table.

“What colour is it? Green?” He settles back in his chair. “You should be good.” Huber looks skeptical, sloshing the coffee in his cup, but not drinking any of it. Maybe for a good reason, but Ian keeps drinking hers.

And damn, this kid goes well with the yellow walls. 

She brings it up to Brad later that night, once Huber has left with their numbers scrawled across the back of his hand. He just throws a pillow at her and agrees.

In a scarily quick transition, Huber becomes a sort of fixture around the apartment. He’s not scary, like the curtains, or mysterious, like the cabinets, but he’s always there and he’s so happy and he’s so funny and he’s so cute and shit.

Shit. Scratch that.

He’s not cute, not one single bit. Except for when he smiles. Which is all the time. God damn it. 

She juggles it well, she thinks, and they might know, but she really prefers to believe that neither of them are the wiser. She did hear the cabinets start to whisper at one point, but she shut that down real quick. And by shut down, she of course means slamming the doors in Brad’s face while he was trying to fish out the pancake mix. A really good idea on her part that only ended up with three bruised fingers and exactly zero trips to the hospital.

Huber adds to Brad’s movie list too, throws in a couple features that he can’t believe Brad left out. Movie nights slowly become a trio thing, not a duo thing anymore, and honestly Ian likes it. Her head on Brad’s shoulder and Huber halfway laying across their laps. Ian doesn’t have to get up halfway through the movie to get blankets anymore too, because Brad might be super fucking cold, but Huber is his own space heater and it’s not hard to be comfortable with the two of them around. Sometimes her mind drifts to what it would be like to sleep in the same bed with them, but then Huber makes a comment about something and Ian has to snap back to the movie.

It’s Thursday night and Huber has chosen the worst fucking movie. Or the best fucking move. Ian can’t tell, but she’s laughing so hard that she’s crying and Huber can’t breathe and has tears running down his face.

“They’re just- They’re- Oh my God, they’re so- so fucking straight.” Huber cackles, struggling with every word. “They- This is not how romance works! You don’t fucking- You don’t give her a newspaper and then the shirt comes off! Oh my God! Oh my God!”

“What the fuck?” Ian cackles, barely watching the movie through her own tears. “What is this? Huber, what have you done?”

“I regret it, I regret it so much, so, so much. Wait, wait!” He holds up a hand and falls silent, focusing on the TV screen. Ian does the same. “He did it! He did the ‘one night stand leave without a note’ thing! They work together! They work with each other! What the hell, Steven?”

“The newspaper is still on her table.” Ian says, softly, as the girl, Meghan, forlornly puts on a tea kettle and sits down at her table. She flips open the newspaper and promptly starts crying. “What the fuck, Meghan? Haven’t they been dating for like months? They’ve had sex before, this isn’t new shit. This is the worst relationship.” Brad laughs, walking in from the kitchen and leaning against the back of the sofa, glass in his hand. Ian looks up and Brad is just looking down at them both, swirling his glass. He looks back at the screen. Ian does too.

“These are the straightest straights to have ever straighted.” He remarks and Huber snorts, laughing. Ian has her face in her hands. Meghan is meeting with her twin sister to plan how to get back at Steven. There is no way this could end well for any of them, but knowing straight rom-coms, it probably will. “We should go out sometime. Give the hets a run for their money, yeah? Wouldn’t be hard, from the looks of it.” Huber looks at Brad, mouth hanging open.

“Kind of het, though.” Ian says, tilting her head. “That’s…”

“You’re non-binary, Ian.” Brad shakes his head. “If that makes this date a het date, I’ll eat my hat, you beautiful trans babe.” Ian flushes, shaking her head. Huber looks between them, head swiveling.  “What do you say?”

“Of course.” Ian answers immediately. Brad looks at Huber, who blinks.

“What can I say but yes, really?” Huber asks and Brad nods and Ian nods. 

Meghan kisses her sister, apparently, because Huber starts screaming bloody murder and Brad jumps backwards, raising his hands to cover his ears and dropping his glass to the floor.

They end up going out the next night and it… Goes well. They go to dinner, Huber makes them go to PetSmart and look at all the dogs they have. They take a strange liking to him, but it’s really not that strange when Ian thinks about it. It’s actually pretty normal, Huber is literally a wolf, after all. They don’t take one home though, Brad says it’s because they don’t have enough room, plus they already have one dog and he tousles Huber’s hair. Ian’s pretty sure he’s just scared that the cabinets would get jealous and take matters into their own hands. With the help of the curtains, they could probably commit a murder and no one would be the wiser. She’ll have to keep a closer eye on them. 

It’s better than Ian could have ever imagined, really, sleeping in the same bed as Huber and Brad. Perfectly cold with Brad by her side and perfectly warm with Huber sprawled out across them both. 

Huber never really moves in, either, but it’s more like he stops leaving and he stops taking back the things he brings over. Ian likes it, seeing her two boys together in the kitchen in the morning with flour all over their faces and clothes. She doesn’t know how it happened and she doesn’t really care because they immediately make her try their muffins. If they’re disgusting, she doesn’t tell them because they’re grinning so widely at her. She thinks the cabinets would be smiling, if they could. Or frowning. She’s not sure. She tries not to think of the cabinets.

She likes where they’re at, this kind of blurry lovely stage of whatever they have. She likes it, she really does, and she never wants it to stop, this period of time with no problems and no unhappiness at all. 

But of course, everything has to end, every period of happiness has something bad waiting at the end of the road. A pothole or a murderer or some fatal flaw that cannot be looked past. And this time, it just happens to be the sink.

It starts at two A.M. on a Friday, Ian’s curled up in bed with her boyfriends. Brad is hogging all the blankets, as usual, but Huber has his arms wrapped around her waist. She’s almost asleep, watching lights dance behind her eyelids. She’s just dropping off when there’s a loud groan, shaking and low. She sits bolt upright and Huber squeaks, rolling off of her.

“What?” He asks, groggily, rubbing his face. Brad looks at them both through narrowed eyes.

“What was that?” Ian asks, looking at the doorway. “Do you think it was…” 

“It wasn’t the cabinets.” Brad answers, immediately. “It was probably the pipes or the building settling or something, but it wasn’t the cabinets. They don’t make noise, only silence.”

“How does that even work?” Huber asks, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Does that work? And that’s not what a building settling sounds like. It was probably the pipes, yeah.”

“Or one of your ghost friends.” Brad chuckles, pushing Ian lightly. “Just coming to chill out with us. They’ve seen how great you are and they’re jealous of us getting to spend so much time with you.”

“They don’t normally come in the apartment though.” Ian murmurs, still looking at the doorway. She hasn’t moved since she sat up, but there hasn’t been another noise.

“Hey.” Brad reaches forward and touches her shoulder. She whips around and Brad holds up his hands in front of him. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s just the pipes, somebody will probably fix them soon, landlord or something. You’re tired and you’re freaked out, Ian, go back to sleep.”

“Yeah, Ian. Come back.” Huber reaches out and makes grabby hands at her, beckoning her to return. She sighs and lies back down, Huber immediately snuggling up against her side. Brad pulls the blanket up to her chin and rolls back over. She threads her fingers through Huber’s hair and he lets out a purr that is decidedly not dog-like. She stays like this for a while, staring at the dark ceiling, but eventually the grey fades over to black and she sleeps.

The next morning while Ian is making coffee, the gurgling starts again. She shoots a glare at the cabinets, who creak a quiet and decidedly wooden apology, but the gurgling doesn’t stop. She sighs and looks at the sink. The noise gets even louder. She has found the culprit. The sink does not apologize. The cabinet creaks again, maybe a warning, but to her or the sink, she is not sure. She goes back to bed. It’s too early for this.

However, in contrast to what Brad predicted about how someone would fix it soon, no one does fix it. Ian calls, multiple times. Huber calls when Ian makes him. Brad calls when Ian’s head starts to hurt after the constant noise. They get the same answer every time, ‘We’ve checked it out, there’s nothing wrong. Nothing we can do, it’ll go away soon’, but it’s been ‘going away’ for three weeks and Ian really needs to be able to work in her kitchen without the incessant grumbling. She has spells she needs to cast, potions she needs to make. 

It’s seven thirty in the morning of what should have been a sleepy Tuesday, sun barely coming in from under the drapes, blankets heavy on her chest. Huber’s head on her shoulder and Brad’s arms around her waist. She hums, shifting herself closer to Brad, who smiles in a sleepy haze and looks toward her, eyes barely open. She smiles and leans forward, lips just brushing his cheek and-

There’s a loud, watery crunch and Brad sits up immediately, slamming his face into Ian’s, who yelps and jolts backward straight into Huber. Brad has the covers clutched to his ribs and Huber looks confused and Ian’s jaw is smarting. 

“That’s the final straw.” She spits, throwing the blankets off of her. Brad barely catches them before they go sailing off the bed.

“Ian, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Brad says, sounding far too worried and Ian waves a hand at him, carefully picking her way over Huber and to the floor.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Brad, it’s that damn sink. It’s all the sink’s fault.” Her feet hit the wood with a dull thump and she stands, straightening her shirt. “And I’m going to give it a piece of my mind.”

She marches to the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest. She steps through the doorway and points an accusatory finger at the  offending sink. She takes a breath and begins to speak.

“ I don't know who you think you are,  but you need to cut this out right now! this Behavior needs to stop, and you need to start working because I am so fed up with this attitude. you need to start working because you owe your life to  me and you don't have to pay rent and you don't have a real job so you better start making our lives damn easy by doing your Goddamn job! you're a sink! you don't have a family to provide for, but I have things I need to do, like, I don't know, sleep with my boyfriends. How about that, huh? Such a strange concept, yeah? Not that anyone would love you, you disgrace of a wash basin.” She points an accusatory finger at it. “I want to sleep and you are-”

“Excuse me.” Someone says behind her and Ian spins around, still pointing. There’s a figure there, standing, looking slightly amused. Ian mind blanks because how the hell did this random guy get in their apartment? She blinks and suddenly realizes that she can see the wall behind him through him.

“Holy shit, you’re a ghost.” She blurts without thinking, then immediately claps a hand to her face. “I mean, I’ve seen a ghost before, I’m a medium, kind of, after all. But never one so new to dea- being a ghost.”

“Uh, I guess I’m pretty new.” The guy chuckles, awkwardly, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. “ANd sorry about your sink, by the way.”

“What?” She asks, distracted from what she yelling so angrily about by the sudden appearance of this guy. “Oh, no, it’s okay, I’m just fed up. And why would you be sorry?”

“Y’know, I just kind of think it’s a big possibility that it might be my fault.” He pauses and she gestures for him to go on. “I kind of, like, ended up in the basement a little bit. A lot of bit. I got stuck in the basement of your building and I’m pretty cold now, I think, and I’m pretty sure that the cold kind of radiated and messed up the water pipes. At least a little.”

“That sounds plausible and completely ridiculous at the same time.” Ian shakes her head. “Why haven’t the noises stopped, then?”

“I only got out this morning, so they might still be thawing.” He shrugs and, as if on cue, the sink burbles behind Ian. 

“Mm, this is a bit too science-y for my liking.” She says and he raises an eyebrow. “Feel free to sit down,” She waves a hand, “I’m just going to make some coffee.”

“Dude. I’m kind of a ghost.” He points out and it’s her turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah? You can still touch things, man, you just have to focus yourself into a more solid form. Just center yourself, I guess? Look,” She reaches over and pulls one of the chairs out from under the kitchen table just a little ways, “just try. It’s hard to explain.” The guy looks suspicious, but he closes his eyes, and takes a breath. Ian makes a mental note because damn, this guy really is new if he’s still in the habit of breathing when he doesn’t have to. He reaches his hand out and it passes through the wood. He pulls back and opens his eyes, looking disappointed. “Try again.” She urges and he does, this time taking a deeper breath. His hand closes around one of the chair’s bars and he opens his eyes wide. He pulls the chair further out, slightly, and sits down. She nods approvingly at him and he runs his fingers over the grain of the kitchen table.

“I didn’t realize I could do this.” He murmurs, tapping a hesitant finger. It makes no noise. 

“Most don’t until they d- well. Until they have the opportunity to experience it themselves.” She grabs the kettle off the counter and fills it from the now quiet sink. “I’m Ian, by the way.” “Kyle.” He says in response and she smiles over her shoulder at him.

“Nice to meet you, Kyle.” 

She sets about making the coffee, scooping out the ground coffee and dumping them unceremoniously into the French press. Brad wanders in a few minutes later, hair a mess, lips red. Ian snorts and clicks her tongue. Leave it to her boyfriends to make out without her. 

“Morning, Brad.” She greets him. He groans in return, trying and failing to open the fridge door. He huffs and pulls harder, it swings open immediately and he has to jump back to avoid getting hit.

“Ian, fix your doors.” He murmurs, digging through the fridge. He straightens and turns, bottle of half-and-half in his hand. He pauses, looking at Kyle. “Uh, who?”

“That’s Kyle.” Ian explains, then realizes that saying his name doesn’t really explain anything. “He’s a ghost and he got kind of stuck in the basement. He thinks his body heat, or lack of, was messing with the pipes.”

“Oh, cool.” Brad yawns and holds out a hand for Kyle to high-five. “Cold bros for… Well. Cold bros.” Kyle smiles and reaches out to meet his hand.

“Wai-” Ian begins to say, but it’s too late. When they’re hands should have met, Kyle’s just passes through Brad. Ian sighs. Kyle turns and looks at her.

“I thought you said I could touch things.” He says, visibly distressed, eyebrows furrowed. He’s worried.

“Things, not people.” Ian elaborates, seeming apologetic. “It has something to do with the intersection of the dimensional planes and the planes of real existence. You can make yourself, for lack of a better word, ‘real’ enough to interact with objects, but not with people. It’s harmonizing energies or some bullshit like that, sorry. I should’ve told you.” 

“No, it’s- it’s not your fault. I think I should’ve kind of assumed that I couldn’t. Common sense.” Kyle shrugs, but he seems downtrodden, upset. “Ghosts don’t just go around touching people, do they?” He laughs, quietly, bitterly. These feelings, Ian assumes, are ones that come with being newly dead. Probably a lifetime of regret and disappointment. 

“Still.” Brad cuts in and Kyle looks up at him. “Cold bros.” He shoots finger guns at Kyle, nearly dropping the half-and-half, who gives him a small smile and returns them. Ian shakes her head.

“How is dear Huber? Kiss him enough for both of us?” She teases and Brad snorts.

“You know how he is in the morning.” He waves a hand in the air like it’s supposed to mean something. It doesn’t. “Wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise, much less initiate a kiss.”

“True.” Ian admits, taking the bottle from his hands and setting it on the counter. “He going to be a few minutes or…”

“I think he fell back asleep.” Brad chuckles, sidestepping around Ian. “But I can get the cups.”

“If you’d please.” Ian says as Brad opens the cabinets. Everything in the kitchen falls still, falls silent, as the doors swing open, except for Brad who rummages around in the cabinet before pulling out two mugs. He closes the door quickly and hands them to Ian, who looks at the closely. “You even got matching ones. Nice.” She sets them down on the counter with a clink.

“I’m sorry, but what?” Kyle asks, sounding aghast. “What are. Are those cabinets?”

“Yeah.” Brad nods, knocking on the side of them. “Pretty good ones.”

“Are you a magician?” Kyle asks, looking between them. “One of you? Or the other one?”

“Me.” Ian taps her chest lightly. “A witch, if you want to be more specific. I’m kind of the worst at it, though. Spells are not my strong suit.”

“Maybe you’re just doing the wrong ones.” Kyle murmurs, standing slowly, pushing the chair back from him. He makes his way over to the cabinets and lays his hand across one of the doors. He jerks back, looking at his hand. “That’s some energy, right there.” He turns to look at Ian. “Were you trying to do a never-ending whatever spell?” Ian nods. “Okay, look. I think you did pretty well. Better than well, even. With most spells like that, it creates a space pocket that can be filled eventually. It just kind of expands space a little bit, but you kind of. Look, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you created space.”

“Isn’t that impossible?” Ian questions, unsure as she plunges the coffee down.

“Apparently not. Ian.” He looks so excited, hands clasped together. “I think you did the spell too well.”

“Huh.” She remarks. “Than what the hell did I do to make these curtains bloodthirsty?” The curtains rustle in response. Kyle’s face scrunches up, he looks concerned.

“Blood-thirsty curtains?” He checks, just to make sure he heard her right. She nods. “What spell were you trying to cast?” 

“I was trying to turn the walls yellow, but then the curtains turned red too and we found out about the blood thing later.” She explains. The curtains rustle again, tiny noises. “Oh, hush you.” Kyle blinks, then opens his mouth to speak before closing it again.

“Okay.” He admits, wringing his hands together. “You might be a kind of bad witch. Maybe just a little bit. But you have a lot of power, not everyone can create stuff like what’s in those cabinets.”

“I think they might be stealing things from our neighbors.” Brad says, softly. Kyle looks mildly horrified. Brad shakes his head, quickly. “Don’t ask.”

“I won’t.” He promises and Ian isn’t sure if he’s promising himself or them. There’s a slight shuffle in the doorway and Huber pokes his head in.

“Did you get someone else while I was asleep?” He mumbles, eyes still half-closed.

“You know we couldn’t.” Ian chuckles. “I heard that you were terrorizing Brad, huh?”

“No.” Huber replies instantly, but he’s smiling. “Never. I don’t kiss Brad, who’s Brad? Suddenly I don’t know, sorry.”

“Oh, hush.” Ian waves a hand at him. “You’re making it up to me later, though.” Huber nods and then seems to notice the other person in the room for the first time since he put his head in, even though it really should have been the second.

“Are you actually trying to replace me?” He asks, raking his gaze over Kyle. “Because I mean, damn. You did pretty well.” Kyle turns paler, just a shade, Ian takes it upon herself that it’s the ghost form of blushing, which is, well. Interesting. 

“That’s Kyle.” Brad chimes in, cheerfully. “We’re friends now.” Huber edges into the room, slowly, sliding his sock-clad feet across the floor.

“Cool.” He nods, briefly, tilting his head towards Kyle. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Kyle offers, still flustered. He’s wringing his hands together and he hasn’t yet returned to his normal shade. Or what Ian assumes to be his normal shade. “I can… Y’know, I can go, yeah? I never meant to bother you guys, so. I’ll be heading off now. Nice to meet you all.”

“You don’t have to leave!” Huber cuts in, waving his hands. “Really! You can stay until you actually want to leave. I’m sure Ian could give you some ghost-y reason why you should hang around her, but.” He shrugs. “You can leave if you actually want to, but you seem like you might take pity on the losing side of debates, and Brad really needs some help.” Brad squeaks, indignantly. “It’s hard, y’know? Seeing him being out-argued by Ian and me. It takes its toll on his loved ones.” 

“Sure, I guess I can stick around. For a bit, anyway.” Kyle shrugs, looks down. Scuffs the floor with his shoe. “Not like I’ve got anywhere to be.” He’s smiling when he looks up, though.

Kyle ends up staying for the rest of the day, floating around the apartment and watching them. He does end up taking Ian and Huber’s side on most of the arguments which get strangely heated for being lighthearted disagreements. Kyle either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that it defeats the point of why Huber wanted him to stay. 

He almost leaves that night, they’re kind of sprawled across the couch. Brad is snoring slightly and Huber twitching in his dreams. Ian is about to close her eyes when she sees Kyle, drifting slowly towards the door in the dark apartment. 

“Where’re you going?” She asks, voice ringing out in the quiet. Kyle freezes and she lifts up her head to get a better look at him.

“Nowhere.” He says, quickly. “Just looking at this door, not going anywhere at all.”

“Are you sure?” She raises an eyebrow, muddled in sleep. “Because it looks like you were about to leave. Were you about to leave?” Kyle shrugs.

“Maybe. You guys are having a moment.” He gestures at the sofa and the three bodies tangled on it. “I didn’t want to intrude or anything. Plus, it’s not like you guys need me around here, I was just going to slip out.”

“Without a note? Like a one night stand of friendship?” Ian blinks, shakes her head. She can’t read the clock from here without her glasses. “What time is it?”

“Like, two in the morning, wh-”

“You can’t leave now.” She interrupts him, he looks skeptical. “I mean it. Don’t leave now. I know ghost things, yeah? And it’s dangerous to be out at night without an anchor.”

“An anchor?” Kyle asks. “I feel like that might be a bit hard to walk around with.”

“No, an anchor in this plane.” Ian explains, correcting him. “It’s either something of extreme personal value, a picture, something from you childhood or the like, or someone powerful. Like me.” She taps her chest. “Something that you can latch onto so you don’t drift between the planes. Bad things happened with drifting, trust me.” There are a few beats of silence, a noiselessness that stretches on for far too long. 

“I do.” Kyle says, so quietly it’s nearly inaudible, and he clears his throat. “I trust you. I’ll- I’ll stay. For tonight.” Ian smiles, leans backward, settle back into the couch.

“Good.” She closes her eyes, then opens them. Kyle’s still standing by the door. “We like you, you know that, right? Like, we don’t want you to leave. You’re welcome here.”

“I… Thank you.” Kyle’s voice is hushed. “Thanks.”

“No problem, man.” She pauses. Kyle is still lingering near the doorway. “You can sit down, y’know? And sleep, sort of. More like a light hibernation, but it’s basically the same thing as sleep.” She peers at him through the darkness, his pale form shining in glass filtered moonlight. “Even as a ghost you look so tired.”

“At least I can’t die of exhaustion now.” Kyle jokes, laughing softly. Ian bites her lip, unsure whether it’s a joke made for her, or a joke made for him. She doesn’t laugh. “Go to sleep, Ian. You’re tired.” His voice is so soft, so gentle, taffeta-like. She blinks slowly.

“Okay. Goodnight, Kyle.” She settles back in between Huber and Brad, back into the fighting forces of warm and cold.

“Night.” He whispers. 

She watches him for a few more minutes, just to make sure he doesn’t leave. He stands in the doorway for a bit, awkwardly hovering, hesitant, before making his way to the armchair near the sofa. He settles in, the chair barely sinking beneath him, but it makes no noise. He sighs, the smallest exhale, and he leans his head back. He sleeps, and Ian does too. 

The thing that happened with Huber repeats itself. Kyle sticks around and the three keep coming up with excuses so he can’t leave, but then one day the excuses get so ridiculous (“Someone has to make these muffins taste spooky, God knows Brad can’t.”) that they just… Stop. Kyle, though, Kyle doesn’t leave. Kyle stays. None of them are really sure whether or not Kyle realizes that he’s staying, but he’s definitely stopped leaving. He’s stopped slipping out at dawn and returning just before the city plunges into the dark in the evening. He took Ian’s warnings to heart. He’s an integral part of their dynamic now, it wouldn’t be quite the same if Brad didn’t stumble into the kitchen at three a.m. to find Kyle arguing with the cabinets about the validity of Tetris as a video game. 

Kyle, for the most part, seems comfortable. He’s calm and funny and floats around the apartment, following them around, talking to them. They might be getting a little too attached, a little too quickly. 

It’s been a few months since Kyle appeared in their kitchen and Ian is in the very same kitchen, hunched over a book, pages spread out across the table. Huber walks in, Kyle following close behind him. He raises an eyebrow, looking first at Ian and then at the book.

“You, uh. You having fun?” Huber asks. Ian glances up, hands pressed down against the 

Book. It shivers under her hands, the table shakes. 

“Yeah.” She answers, deadpan. The table quivers again, a pen rolls to the floor. “Barrels of fun. Except magic books tend to be owned by magic people who tend to put spells on their magic books so people who open them tend to have a hard time reading them.” She lifts her hands just barely and the book snaps shut, slamming against the table and stilling. She shakes her head. “I’m just glad this one didn’t turn into fire.” Kyle snorts.

“Did it hurt you?” Kyle asks, coming over to the table and peering at the book, running a finger across the embossed letters on the spine. It bucks upward.

“No.” Ian says, glaring at the book. “It’s just being annoying.”

“ _ Magical Creature and Creations and Cantrips and Casting _ .” Kyle reads. “Isn’t that a few too many and’s?”

“Old English.” Ian shrugs. She pauses for a second, then snaps her fingers. “Ah! Stilling spells! I can use those.”

“Well, this isn’t a movement spell, is it?” Kyle checks, biting his lip. “It might work if it was flying around the room, but…” He gestures at the book in its place on the table. 

“Maybe something that saps energy?” Ian proposes, tapping her fingers together. “Like that one Roswald wrote in his Theories Thesis… He gave energy to a lamp and then took it away, so maybe it’d work here.”

“Sounds like it, I’d say go for it.” Kyle straightens up, takes a few steps away. “Floor is yours.” Ian pauses for a second, hand on her chin, thinking.

“It might work better if it was open.” She muses. “And I kind of need my hands for the spell. Huber, you want to hold it open for me?” Huber nods and moves forward, bracing himself against the table and prying it open. The book squirms under his hands. Ian screws up her eyes, focusing as hard as she can, drawing shapes in the air with her hands. The air is charged, her hair is raising on end. There’s a flash of light, of smoke, the smell of ash and ink and warm leather and the air is thick and white and choking. Ian lets one of her hands drop to her side, waving the other around trying to clear out the smoke.

“Ian?” Huber calls through the whiteness. “I’m going to open a window, clear it up.” The smoke is already fading, but it really couldn’t hurt. She listens as the window creaks and slides open. The smoke starts to move toward the window, like a migratory beast, and it seeps out, slowly.

“You okay?” Ian asks and Huber nods. She looks down, smooths her hands over the still book. “I mean, I think it worked. Thanks, Kyle.” There’s no response, she lifts her head, looks around. “Kyle? Kyle? Oh, shit…”

“He’s probably in the other room.” Huber reassures her, patting her shoulder as he walks by to check. He comes back a few seconds later, eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, well. He’s not in the living room. Or any of the other rooms.”

“Oh, shit.” She runs her hands through her hair. “Oh, shit. Oh, this is bad. Oh, God, this is really bad. This is bad. Oh my God.” She’s on the verge of panicking, fingers tight in her hair, words coming too fast. 

“Slow down, slow down.” Huber says, voice soft as he takes her hands in his. “What happened? Where’s Kyle?”

“Huber, I…” She takes a shuddering breath, there are tears pricking in her eyes. “Huber, I think I exorcised Kyle.” There are a few beats of silence, they’re both looking at each other. 

“What?” He finally manages.

“The spell, it- it took the book’s energy, but it takes all things that aren’t human energy, I think, and if- if Kyle wasn’t human energy, then it took his energy and I don’t- I.” Ian pauses, takes a breath, squeezes her eyes shut. “I think I killed Kyle. Oh, God, I killed Kyle. Huber, I killed him.”

“Who did you kill?” Brad is standing in the doorway, looking confused, grocery bags clutched in his hands.

“Kyle.” Ian breathes. The bags fall to the floor. A lone tomato rolls out of one of them. 

“What? You killed Kyle?” Brad asks, blinking. “Isn’t he already dead? What?”

“I don’t- It was a spell and I cast it and I think I might have banished him accidentally, oh my God, Brad…” Ian trails off, tears rolling down her cheeks. Brad steps over the bags, walks over, brushes the tears off her face. 

“You didn’t, I’m sure you didn’t.” Brad looks at her face, studies her. He’s trying to be reassuring, but he’s worried. He’s searching, floundering for anything that could mean that she’s wrong. “Wouldn’t there be something left behind? A signature of energy or like, like a mark or a missing place? Ian, there’s gotta be something, you wouldn’t do this, not even accidentally.”

“Brad, I don’t…” Ian trails off, looking up at him. Her cheeks are tear stained and her eyes are shining. “I don’t know, Brad, I could, I could’ve, I don’t know. I can’t feel him, but that might just be because he isn’t close to me, Brad. I don’t- I don’t know. I think I killed him, oh God, I killed him, didn’t I?”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Brad hushes her, hand on her cheek. “It’s okay, Kyle’s okay, maybe he just got a little freaked out. He just probably ran off somewhere, yeah? He disappears sometimes, this is probably just another one of those things. Look,” Brad brushes Ian’s hair away from her face, “you and Huber, you two go to bed, yeah? Just go to sleep and I’ll go look for Kyle. He’s probably just hanging around somewhere. I’ll find him and bring him back.”

“Shouldn’t I go?” Ian asks, biting her lip. “I can- I can sense him, I’d be able to find him more quickly.”

“You’re also not in your right mind right now.” Huber points out. “And you’re crying, Ian. C’mon, let’s go to bed. Brad can handle this.” He slips his hand into Ian’s as Brad presses a light kiss to her lips.

“It’ll be okay.” He murmurs. 

Ian doesn’t sleep much that night, tossing restlessly. When she does drop off, the moment replays itself. White smoke and a flash and electricity in the air and oh, God. And she wakes up, gasping, Huber whimpering in his sleep beside her. 

Brad doesn’t come to bed that night, and despite Huber’s warmth, Ian is cold, shivering. 

She gets up as the sun breaks the horizon, spilling yellow light that threads across the city and through the window of her room. She detaches Huber from herself, careful not to wake him up, and she walks softly into the kitchen.

Brad is sitting at the kitchen table, alone, head in his hands. Ian freezes in the doorway.

“Oh no.” She whispers, hands coming up to cover her mouth. Brad turns to look at her before standing and walking towards her.

“Hey.” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around her. “Hey. I just couldn’t find him, that’s all. I’m going out again in just a little while and I’ll take Huber with me this time.” He doesn’t say ‘it’s okay’ and the absence of those two words make her want to cry. The words aren’t true, of course not, she possibly killed one of their best friends, but it would mean so much to hear them.

Huber and Brad leave after Huber wakes up and Ian is left alone in the too quiet apartment. She needs something to occupy her mind, so she pulls down one of her books on magic, tries to read it, tries to learn from it, but it makes her sick. She leaves it on the table and retreats to the bedroom, covers herself in blankets, tries her hardest to rest. 

She can barely close her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Ian has spent all her life trying to be the perfect witch. And find roommates that she actually likes. Who knew that the two of those would come hand in hand?


End file.
